I had a revelation last night. It’s not much of one to be honest; it’s pretty obvious really.
Whiskas has wheedled his way into being allowed to stay inside the house until we go to bed. He’s even got a nice little round cushion which fits his frame perfectly when he curls up.
I was watching him last night as he finished his evening meal, as usual leaving a little bit to be munched just before he’s ‘put out’ for the night (a ceremony that doesn’t always take place with his co-operation and one which can involve some ugly hissing and growling).
Belly contentedly full, he stretched out his legs and then curled into a ball with his head upside down on the cushion. The glow of the fire lit up his whiskery face and I swear there was a happy little smile on his chops.
And that’s it; that’s all he really wants to make him happy: a full bowl and a soft bed.
Pretty much like most males then.
